cornerbirch sweepstakes
ok show of hands, if you read this blog raise your hand by commenting on this post. and say something witty. the wittiest saying wins a prize, seriously. offer ends may 5. tell your friends.
(no purchase necessary. void where prohibited.)
Filed under: General on April 26th, 2006
Bisexuality immediately doubles your chances for a date on a Saturday night.
i was voted “wittiest” in high school, that’s gotta count for something.
yo momma so fat she was walkin down the hall with a pig under her arm and i said “hey where’d you get that” and the pig said i won her at a raffle
how much wood could a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck could chuck wood?? it’s one of life’s unknown questions…and pretty witty if you ask me.
So you couldnt fix the saw and now you are leaving town in shame. I get it.
So one day this summer you are going to come into town, its been a while seen we have seen each other so we are going to go out and make sure we have a good time. We are going to go downtown start throwing rocks through windows, smashing mailboxes, and hitting cops with paint balls. I m going to be cracking jokes the whole time and you are going to turn to me and say “Patrick you are such a riot”, then I m going to say ” I m a riot?…… your an ephen riot, get it? Notice how i used the word riot with 2 meanings, one for fun, the other for destruction. I just won the contest, woooooohooooooo. I won I won I won.
no
not to understand a man’s purpose does not make him confused. MASTER PO
Here’s a witty remark:
The kicker for Auburn’s ‘All-Century’ team thinks you have gay sex………with ME! But don’t get too bent about it, when you’re makin’ millions he’ll still be getting the league minimum playing for the CFL’s Toronto Argonauts. BTW, you broke a lion.
And, if that wasn’t witty enough for you… I have another one that involves your mother and something about an epileptic on a sugar high.
Just mail the prize to “Wingman” the post office knows where the #!*$ I live.
Oh yeah and I forgot…
The title of this post should have been:
“Show me your wits”
If the irony is lost on you, think ‘Mardi Gras”
if i were sitting at a paybythehour type of job i would be wasting someone’s money because i’m sitting here trying to think of something “wiity” to put on someone’s blog. It’s an interesting waste of time i must say! But since i’m not at a paybythehour job, then i may just sit here all day…what is witty anyway? what does it mean exactly to be….witty? It’s an interesting concept. i’ve never once put effort into my mass array of witty comments. they just flow…flow like water from a waterfall sometimes…and sometimes they flow like molasses…again i ask, what is witty? it’s quite a relative term…what’s witty to me could be dumb to you or dumb to me could be witty to you. this sweepstakes is all about getting into the mind of taylor brook’s and figuring what his thoughts are on witty. what makes taylor giggle or chuckle or laugh or wheeze or fall on the ground because the laughter just hurts so bad. i have to be honest, i haven’t figured it out yet. is it clowns or toys or cartoons or jesus or coffee or a date or women or men…who knows….taylor, wittle me this…what makes you go “ha”???
First, an explanation -
To be honest, I’ve put more thought into this than I’d like to admit. I started wrestling with the whole ‘what is wit, where does it come from, how can I be witty’dilema. I came to the conclusion that wit is different than humor, it is born from conversation, a quick exercise showcasing unity between mind and tongue. That being said, my entry comes from the script of a very low (read: no) budget movie I wrote with a few friends. The movie was about a highschool band director named Lonnie Explosionson who gets blamed for the kidnapping of his star drummer. The following conversation is taken from this movie, and is, as best best as I could muster, my attempt at wit.
To set the seen, Lonnie is interviewing anyone who may be of use in the kidnapping case, and is currently talking to a young girl who is second chair to his star drummer.
EXPLOSIONSON: Do you have any idea where Nicholas might be, any place he used to go and play…anywhere?
GIRL DRUMMER: No. Well, actually, he used to ask me to go up to the old fire tower with some of the other guys and judge their beat off competitions, if that helps.
EXPLOSIONSON, looking STUNNED: Thanks, that does help, but I’m shocked that Nicholas would ask you to be witness to something so inappropriate.
GIRL DRUMMER: What’s inappropriate about a beat off? Just a bunch of guys sitting in a circle, pounding til they sweat. Sure it got crowded up there with all the drums, but how else could you tell who could keep a beat the longest. Drummers have to compete just like everyone else.
Prolegomena.
As a preparatory note to my brief discourse on attempts to display a witticism, the following comments I believe to be worth the making; if you find them unnecessarily vindictive or bitingly offensive, then you should consider yourself the product of an oversensitivity complex, undoubtedly encouraged by the mind-numbing magic of global, moral inclusivism. Instead of actually dealing with our own issues, (and for those of you with a Christian conscience I am in no way demeaning the grace of Christ; case in point: the book of Matthew) we revert to an insipid co-existence with our grievous, how should I say this…sins. Somehow, we each craft our own Wonderland, and while we imagine and, indeed, believe we are living a comfortable existence of happy amusement, we are in reality dwelling in filth. I can’t be convinced that it’s O.K. that I sin or even that I’m a sinner. Paul would have been appalled at that idea. It’s foolishness to suppose that that concept is anything better than spit on the cross. It’s because I know I’m a sinner that points me to the knowledge that I need saving. And it is precisely because of the saving that I find the very cause for which Christ perished all the more vile, wicked, and deserving of my utmost, extreme hatred.
So if you read this and discover you can’t handle critique, whether moral or intellectual, from an anonymous, nameless, faceless, observer, who knows all of you least of all, then I’m sure a community circle gathering will be shortly convening at Starbucks, where a grande mocha frappacino will soothe your overly-perturbed nerves.
If competition draws out essence, then, frankly, I’m mostly disappointed by the posts summarized in the following categories.
Vulgarity. Not only is it a dismal reminder of blight of thoughtlessness, but it’s cheap, bawdy, shallow humor. After reading some of the posts, I felt like I’d just paid a dime to watch a pimp do 30 seconds of stand-up comedy. Or worse, like I’d been exposed to a Mel Brooks film festival. You might get a sudden rush of laughter from your audience, but they’re not improved by it. Some of them probably even feel a bit grimier after the experience.
Imitations. I’d rather grind my teeth on a sidewalk than plagiarize. A copied adage shouldn’t strike you as a form of wit, it should embarrass you as a being capable of dreams. A bird will chirp the Star-Spangled Banner if he hears it enough, but he’ll never conceive of creating something like the Sistine Chapel, or design a helicopter, or write like Whitman. That’s why parrots are cheap, and the Mona Lisa priceless.
Half-heartedness. Again, a function of the collegiate carelessness. I’ve never met so many brilliant people in one place than in college, and I’ve never met so many lazy people in one place than in college. Surely, effort is not always measured by the quantity of the output (in this particular venue: words), but the quality is necessarily proportionate to the degree of effort. Wit can certainly be a sudden showing, but it is a sudden showing of a mind well-trained. True, it is a simple contest and one you might not seriously consider or care about. But then why participate and degrade the competition and the giver of the competition with lousy posts?
Something of yourself is communicated in every word, thought, and expression. Thus, we can rightly call our language alive or “living.†Truly, we “live†in our words. Thus, they are, every one of them, judged eternally. It seems appropriate, then, to count them precious and value them as instruments, as organic conduits to accomplish an end. But, in fact, they’re not just means; they’re an end in themselves. Words produce effects and they are effects. They result in and they are the result of, for from the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks.
I know I haven’t given a real witticism yet (unless something above merits “witâ€), and that I’ve only engaged in categorical criticisms (yet another form of “easy†conversation). But I’m not really trying to win the competition; I’m trying to improve the nature of the participants and participation.
Still, it is on this final note I close:
If you so wish to win but won’t will to change the work of your words with which you writ’ your wit with, I pithy you.